Fallout: Dusty Old Stories
by Jshep16653
Summary: A collection of one-shots providing background for some of the characters in the main story line, Fallout 3: The Wandering Path. This includes everything from history, chapters left out of the main plot, and just funny moments. Totally for the enjoyment of Fallout fans.
1. Chapter 1

**So here is a collection of one-shots about characters from one of my other stories, Fallout 3: The Wandering Path, if you have not read that already, I suggest you do before reading any further.** **This includes quests mentioned in the story, backstories for the non-cannon characters I created, and some snips of stuff from others as well. Not in any particular order, not important to read for the main story, though you can if you want, up to you really. Hope you all enjoy!**

 _ **Dusty Old Stories:**_

 _ **Fucking Radroaches.**_

Luther was happily dreaming about the night he first met his wife, when something broke through the haze of the dream. He opens his eyes and blearily looks down at his chest. At first, what he sees does not make much sense, then his vision clears and he jerks back, flailing wildly. The radroach is knocked off of his chest where it had been trying, unsuccessfully, to chew through the metal plating of his armor. He sits up and grabs the large bug before it can regain its bearings and flips it over onto its back. The bug's legs flail wildly as it attempts to flip itself back over. Luther rubs the sleep out of his eyes wearily, he just can't catch a break. Running a hand through his long, shaggy, dirty, hair he regards the roach as his stomach makes a loud rumble. "Well," he says to himself, "maybe my luck isn't all that bad."

Dragging himself off the mold covered mattress he had crashed on, he casts about the wreckage of the raider camp for a knife of some sort. Rolling over the corpse of one of said raiders, he lets out a triumphant sound as he sees a rusty shiv on the dead man's belt. Taking the shiv, he flicks his thumb over the edge. The makeshift weapon is a little dull, but it will do. He turns around, ready for his meal, only to see that the roach has vanished. With a disappointed sigh he drops the shiv and grabs a tattered rucksack from the ground. Pulling the bags straps across his shoulder, he takes one last look at the raider camp, making sure there is nothing of value that he has missed.

Exiting the camp, he turns in a full circle before deciding on a direction and starting to walk. Ever since his exile, this is they way it has been. Pick a direction, walk until something happens, sleep if you can, repeat. Right at first, he had simply wanted to die, they had taken everything from him after all, yet his instincts always kept him alive, and he simply doesn't have the willpower to take his own life. Thus he wanders, throwing himself recklessly at any an all passing threats. It is working too, all the fighting added on top of all the drinking has kept all the memories at bay. Speaking of, he reaches into the rucksack and digs around until he finds a half empty bottle of vodka. Tilting it up, he proceeds to down three big gulps. The liquid sears his throat, but he barely notices.

With no real idea of where he is, coupled with the drinking, he has no way to tell how far he has gone. Thus he isn't surprised when a bullet tears through his shoulder. The alcohol nulls the pain, but it also makes his vision so blurry. He cannot see where his attackers are, or how many of them there are, or even what they may be. Grumbling, he awkwardly pulls his pistol from its revolver. What he attempts to say is, "All right, I am drunk, so come out so I can see to shoot you," but what he actually says sounded more like, "Allrit, I ams drunk, hic, surcomso ier cern sea to shert ya."

Nothing happens for a second, so he shrugs and starts walking again. A beeping sound comes from a nearby car and he looks over just in time to see a frag mine detonate. The blast flips him over onto his back. As he sits up, the car explodes upwards into a mushroom cloud. This time he is slides backwards across the cracked road. He sits up with a pained groan, reaching a hand up to gingerly touch the back of his head. Adrenaline is now pumping through him, clearing his vision just enough for him to see the three raiders bearing down on him. He lifts his hand to shoot them, but discovers that his hand is empty. Looking around for his pistol, he spots it, way to far away for him to reach. "Fuck me."

The first raider reaches him and swings a heavy bat at his head. He manages to duck and swings his legs, swiping the raiders feet out from under him. He a solid punch on the raiders face before wrapping his arms around his neck and strangling him. The other two raiders arrive and he feels something slam painfully into his back. He cries out in pain and releases his hold on the first raider. Whipping around ready for a fight, his face takes a blow from a police baton. Blood sprays from his nose and can feel the soft cartilage snap. Tears spring to his eyes, further clouding his already blurry vision. He swings wildly at every movement as the raider whoop and holler while they circle him, shouting all sorts of threats.

He snarls furiously and attempts to stand, only to have a raider slam something into the back of his knee, sending him back to the ground. A raider steps towards him, likely intending to crush his head. He lashes out, grabbing the raider's leg and pulling him to the ground. Before the other two can react he pins the raider and rips off a piece of the man's spiked armor. He lifts the armor above his head and slams it down into the raider's face repeatedly. "Shit," one of the other raiders shouts, "he killed him, he fucking killed him! Shoot him, just shoot the bastard!"

He feels a gun get pressed against his head. He jerks to the left and feels the bullet pass his ear. He reaches up and twists the gun out of the raider's hand, taking the rusty weapon and putting two rounds into its owner's chest. Pushing the corpse away, he turns to the last of the raiders. She screams and runs at him with the police baton above her head. Roaring, he empties the rest of the bullets into the woman's body, watching as she falls to the ground, dead. He gasps and tosses the empty gun away. He can taste blood running into his mouth and knows that his face is covered. He casts his gaze around for his lost gun, scooping it up out of the dirt when he spots it.

Without doing anything to stop the flow of blood from his nose, or to re set the broken bone, he starts walking again. As he does, something scuttles across his pat. He looks down to see a radroach trundling down the road, headed in the same direction he is. The bug shows no signs that it is aware of his presence. That is strange, even to someone who is still very drunk. Most of the time the little insects will attack anything that gets to close. He stares at the bug as he walks, and thus pays no attention to where he is going. He takes a step, but his foot comes down on nothing but thin air. He shouts in surprise as he tumbles forwards, landing hard on his back.

He groans in pain and looks up at where he is. Nearby are the remains of some sort of strange airplane the likes of which he has never seen before. Just beyond the planes cockpit is the corpse of a small green man. A movement catches is eye and he looks up to see the radroach from before scurrying down the hole he fell in. The little thing probably intends to make a meal out of him. He waits, planning on snapping the bugs puny neck when it reaches him, but it never gets that far. As it passed the corpse of the little green man, a bluish light appears around it.

As he watches, the roach freezes in place, and then begins to lift up into the air! That makes no sense at all. Sure, radroaches have wings, but he has never seen them make more than a short flight before. Not only that, but this one isn't even using its wings, yet it is flying straight up. He watches it, awestruck as it ascends upwards into the sky until he can't make it out any more. The bluish light remains for a few seconds, but then vanishes. He waits, lying there in the dust, for the roach to reappear, but it never does.

Finally he shakes his head and stands to leave. He is drunk off his ass. Sure, getting into a fight where he can't see is one thing, but flying radroaches? That is a totally different level of wasted. He makes it about twelve feet from the hole before he stops and slowly turns his head to the left. There, sitting on a rock, is a radroach.

 **So I know that this was really short, but that is okay, it is a one-shot that just delves a little into the characters. There will be more of these as the main story progresses.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Dusty Old Stories**_

 _ **Finding a Dead Man**_

Andale, the place looked like hell. It was the mass of birds circling overhead that brought him here, so Tyler had been expecting to find death, but he was sorely under prepared for the carnage that lay in wait for him. The bodies were piled up in the road. Like some sort of sick ritual. The stench of rotting and burned flesh still lingers in the air, and some of them are even still smoldering, sending small clouds of smoke up into the air. All around he can see signs of the fight that took place. Bloodstains against walls, bullet holes, scorch marks where something exploded. Looking at the pile of bodies, he can make out at least four people, two males and two females.

Nearby an open door catches his attention. Stepping into the building, he instantly notices the signs of a quick pack up. Someone left here in a hurry, taking all of the food and just about everything else with them. Stepping back outside he spots the footprints of at least three people, maybe four, clustered around the entrance of the building. He rubs his head, wishing he knew more about tracking. He stands up and rolls his shoulders. He comes to the conclusion that a normal raider wouldn't have bothered to burnt he bodies in such a spectacular fashion. This was done by someone who wanted to send a message, someone who was also out for revenge. He understands revenge, and the burning desire it leaves inside of a person. Deciding that there is nothing of any value to be found here, he sets off in the same general direction of the tracks he found earlier.

He follows the tracks to the best of his abilities, often times having to go backwards and find the trail again after having wandered off in the wrong direction. Eventually he comes to a spot where the tracks split. There is evidence of a campfire. The group must have stopped here. The tracks diverge, with a set of three heading one direction and a single set moving off on its own. The group seems to contain children, but the tracks left by the loner strike him as strange. he crouches down and examines them closer. The faint footprints are not following a straight line. Instead they list off in either direction, as if the person was struggling to say on their feet. It is also fairly clear that this person is hurt and limping badly.

Tyler decides to go after the loner. Maybe he will get lucky and stumble across the assholes body. He follows the tracks for the better half of the day, mildly impressed that whoever this person is managed to make it this far. He has already decided that if he finds whoever this is alive then he will kill the person to put them out of their misery and then loot them. If the person is already dead, he can save the ammo.

Just after midday the tracks lead him into a metro entrance. Slouched in the shadow cast by the large archway is the body of a man clad in blood soaked clothes. Tyler pulls his shotgun off of his back and approaches closely. The man on the ground makes no movements, seemingly dead. Crouching down in front of him Tyler sets his shotgun down and starts to search the man's pockets. He becomes so preoccupied with his looting that he fails to hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath heavy feet behind him. Suddenly the man he is searching jerks forward and has scooped his shotgun off the ground. Before Tyler can react the man has pulled the trigger and there is a pained roar behind him!

Whirling around, Tyler is shocked to see a deathclaw behind him. The left side of the monsters face is gone, blasted away by the man Tyler had been looting. He turns back to the man to see him slowly lowering the shotgun, "Eat me will you you ugly bastard, not today." Now Tyler is really impressed, and then right away concerned as the man coughs and blood leaks out of the side of his mouth. Tyler makes a snap decision and pulls out one of his stimpacks. He jabs the medicine into the stranger and then hoists the man onto his shoulders. Megaton is nearby, and there is a Doctor there. Normally, he wouldn't bother himself with random people from the wasteland, but if this bastard can survive whatever he has been through and still have the strength of will to save him from a deathclaw, then he deserves to live just a little longer.

The trip to Megaton is uneventful, no more people who should be dead but somehow aren't. Doc Church is his usual testy self, and Tyler again has to remind himself not to be an ass, though it would be so fucking worth it to put a few shotgun shells in that pompous bastards face. As for the dead guy, he recovers remarkably quickly. Tyler is there when he first wakes up. Not because he was waiting by the man's side, but instead because he was high off Med-x and couldn't move. That aside, the man didn't stay awake. He just opened his eyes for a few minutes, groaned something, and then passed back out.

Afterwards the guy didn't hardly say a word. In fact, the most he said was a simple yes, no, fuck you, and sometimes food or water. The rest of the time he guy just grunted, or growled, or just stared at you with this look that made you feel as if he were looking into your soul and judging you for breathing his air or something. At first Tyler was pissed that he has rescued a high and might, everyone is below me, type of person. The he realized that they guy was just sultry and preferred not to talk. What was a real surprise was finding the guy waiting for him at the city's gates the day he left. The guy didn't say anything, he just followed him.

At first, Tyler was nervous around him and always kept a close eye on the man who should be dead. Soon enough though the bastard proved himself and Tyler relaxed a little. Eventually the man started talking. Tyler found out that his name was Luther and that he was a former member of some sort of privileged group. The guy never said witch group, but that he was from one as obvious from the way he referred to some people as, 'degenerates,' or the way he could stare people down. He was a man who used to have power, lost it, and now only looks after himself. he reminds him a whole lot of himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is a little look into the life of Nick before his exit from vault 101. like the opening of the game this chapter jumps around a lot, mostly follows cannon, but I add my own twists. Hope you all enjoy!**

 ** _Dusty Old Stories:_**

 ** _From the Vault_**

Nick shields his eyes from the harsh light that suddenly cuts on and nearly runs from the room when a multitude of voices shout out, "Surprise!" His eyes adjust and he can make out several other vault residents standing around and clapping. He takes in the balloons, the streamers, the cake, and all the people he knows. They remembered. They remembered his birthday! "Happy birthday buddy," his father says with a big smile. "I cant tell you how proud of you I am. Your mother would be..."

His dad is cut off by the Overseer stepping forward with the air of a man in charge. Nick as always been frightened of the Overseer. "Congratulations young man. I don't have to tell you how important this day is. Here in the vault when a resident turns ten they come of age and are ready to take their places as a full member of the community. Here is your very own pipboy 3000, get used to it." The Overseer hands him the pipboy and Nick excitedly straps it to his arm. "You will be getting your first work assignment tomorrow." Suddenly turning ten doesn't seem so great.

Amata jumps forward as everyone settles down and starts talking among themselves. "Happy birthday! We really surprised you didn't we? Your Father was worried you had caught on, but I told him not to worry. You are too gullible." Amata, the only kid in the vault who is really his friend, and also the most clueless of all the people who know him. Of course he found out about the party, you don't hide decorating the cafe in such a small community. He hadn't been sure when they were going to spring on him though, thus the surprise when he entered.

He decides to humor her thou, she is too nice for him to be mean too. "Yeah, you guys really got me this time. Great party by the way, you helped right?"

Amata beams with pride. "Yep, I put up all the decorations while your dad got all the invitations ready. Not sure why Butch and his gang are here though, maybe they just decided to show up." Nick looks around fearfully. Butch Deloria and his group of bullies have been his tormentors since as long as he can remember. Butch still calls him Nosebleed from the one time Nick came to class with a blood nose. It wasn't his fault, the air was just, crisp, or something. He spots the three bullies sitting at a booth and talking amidst themselves.

"Maybe they will just leave me alone, since it is my birthday and all." He says it more to convince himself.

"Hey kiddo," a happy voice interrupts his thoughts. He turns to see Officer Gomez sitting at the cafe's window seat and beaming at him. "Happy birthday! Don't you worry one bit kid, nothing is going on today." The officer places his hand on his baton and Nick gets the message. Gomez has always been nice to him and Amata. Despite Amata being the Overseer's daughter, and him being the Doctor's son, people still pick on both of them. Officer Gomez has always listened to their complaints and made sure they were safe, even if there was never any real danger.

"Thanks for coming Officer Gomez." Nick says in a small voice.

Gomez smile somehow manages to grow wider. "Hey, wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Nick decides he has to see to his guests, even though it is a surprise party, people still probably want to talk to him, and give him presents. Presents are nice. He makes the rounds, and ends up with a really good sweet roll that old Lady Palmer gives him and an awesome ball cap from Stanley. Andy, the Mr. Handy unit used in the maintenance department, accidentally destroys his birthday cake, but that is okay, it was funny to watch. As Nick walks by the table where Butch and his gang are sitting, Butch throws out an arm to stop him. "I'm hungry," the bully wines, "and that stupid robot destroyed the cake. Give me that sweet roll Old lady Palmer gave you!"

Nick has already eaten the roll, and knows that it will get him into trouble, but he doesn't know what to do, so he tells the truth. "I, already ate it Butch." The bully mutters something nasty and Nick gets angry, he is tired of Butch always picking on him. He recalls something he heard one of the adults say. "You do look hungry though, did you mom drink up all your ration slips again?" Butch's face twists in anger and before Nick can react the bigger boy has leapt on him and punched him in the face.

Nick stumbles back, holding his swelling cheek and stare wide eyed in fear at Butch. Luckily Officer Gomez is there and puts Butch back in his seat. Amata runs up to him with concern in her eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Nick hangs his head, this isn't the first time he has gotten himself on Butch's nerves. "It was my fault. You know how easy it is to make him mad. I guess I said something he didn't like."

Amata shakes her head, "When will you ever learn to hold your tongue?"

* * *

Nick sulks out of his Father's office with his head hung. He attempted to get out of taking his GOAT exam by faking an illness, but with his Father being the vault Doctor, that obviously didn't work. His Dad did try to give him a pep talk about his mother and how she would be proud of the young sixteen year old man he has grown into, but Nick isn't buying it.

He is sixteen, has stringy dirty blond hair, a baby face, and the only person he really cares about doesn't even realize he likes her because she is too busy worrying about how the others see her because her father is the Overseer. While he is shy and awkward, Amata is hot and bold. More than once she has gotten the two of them into trouble by coming up with some scheme to get her Dad attention.

Now he has to take the test, and the rest of his life is hinging on him getting a good enough score for him to continue working in the office with his Dad. Sure, it would suck having his Father breathing over his shoulder his whole life, but at least he already knows some stuff about medical things. He enters the classroom and quietly takes his seat at the back. He looks around until he spots Amata sitting at the front. She flashes him a smile and a thumbs up which he weakly returns.

Mr. Brotch administers the test, and at the end Nick is super confused. He went in expecting questions involving mathematics, history, science, all the subject they learned about. Instead the test was mostly hypothetical situations and how they would respond to them. He honestly has no idea how this is supposed to determine which job he is going to end up and wonders if it really is a decent reflection of who he is. He warily watches as the others hand in their tests. Amata gets administrative work, unsurprising, and Butch gets a hairdresser role, which for some reason ticks him off. Everyone else seems really surprised, and in most cases, upset at their results. Nick is last to turn his in.

Mr. Brotch looks over his answers with a slightly amused expression. "Looks like you are going to be working with Stanley a lot, maintenance is the life for you." Maintenance? no one likes that. The people who work in that department are looked down on by everyone else in the vault. He lets out a sigh as he realizes that maintenance fits him perfectly actually, as everyone already thinks he is a simpleton. For the second time that day he left a room with his head hung and his future in question. As he heads back home, here hears Amata's voice.

"Just leave me alone you stupid Tunnel Snakes!"

He wipes around and makes towards her voice. As he gets closer he can hear Butch and the rest of his gang harassing her. He rounds a corner just as Butch reaches out and slaps Amata's thigh. Clearly he was aiming for her ass, but she moved to quickly. Despite that, the idea of Butch or any of those goons touching her quite suddenly sends him over the edge. His vision narrows until he can only see Butch's stupid smug face. He covers the distance between them and is on Butch before the guy even realizes he is there. Somehow Nick manages to tackle the much more fit Butch to the ground and pin him there. With his knee on Butch's chest to keep him down, Nick starts sending his fists into the bully's face.

Blood sprays out from the nose as it breaks after the first punch. The hot liquid hits Nick in the face and the scent of it seems to enrage him all the more. His fists continue to fall, even after Butch stops struggling. He is aware of someone roaring like an animal. Maybe it is him. He can also hear gasps, shouts of shock, screaming. He has no idea how long he is attacking Butch before two pairs of hands are dragging him away. In his fury he turns on the people holding him. He brings down Wally Mack, one of the tunnel snakes, by hitting him hard in the gut and causing him to double over and empty the contents of his stomach. Then he turns and is hit in the head by Paul Hannon. Nick responds by grabbing the idiots head and bringing down into his knee. He hears a sharp crack and blood sprays out of Paul's nose, mixing with the blood already all over the floor.

A powerful blow to the back of the head sends Nick reeling and he hits the floor as the world around him spins. someone cuffs his hands behind his back and the next thing he knows he is being pulled away from the scene by vault security. He gets one last look at the area behind him before being dragged away. The memory of it is instantly imprinted in his mind. Butch is lying on the floor in a pool of blood, his face almost unrecognizable. Paul and Wally are slumped on the ground, nursing their wounds. Amata is staring at him, horror written all over her face.

* * *

Nick collapses onto the bed in his apartment and immediately starts to fall asleep, then he remembers, his schedule. With a sigh he rolls out of his incredibly comfortable bed and unzips his jumpsuit down to the waist. He ties the loose fabric around himself and stretches. Since being assigned to maintenance he discovered that he was incredibly out of shape for the hard work required of him. he lost some baby weight just by working, but decided he wanted to be in better shape so as he could work more and thus earn more ration slips.

He falls forward, catching himself just before hitting the floor and proceeds to do ten sets of push ups followed right after by ten sets of crunches, then ten sets of lunges and then repeating the process over again until he has done ten sets of each set. He eases himself back down onto his bed and whips some sweat from his brow. His arms and chest look good, but his stomach and legs still need some serious work. He sighs and falls backwards onto the mattress. Honestly, he has no idea why he has so much energy pent up inside of him. It could be his isolation. Ever since he attacked Butch, he as all but cut himself off from the rest of the vault.

He works in maintenance, so he always has some job that requires him to crawl through tunnels and fix one loose wire, and thus never has time for much of a social life. He avoids going to get food from the cafe during regular rush hours. That way he doesn't have to worry about the judgmental looks of all the other residents. In truth, this isn't much more different to how he lived when he was younger, only then he had Amata.

Amata, he sighs, he hasn't seen or heard from her since that day. The look on her face while security pulled him off Butch. He can't face that. She was the only person who never judged him for being shy or awkward. The idea of meeting her now and her looking at him like he is a monster? That would destroy him.

His Father doesn't do much to help. Sure, he acts like everything is okay and continues trying to get Nick to come out of his room and interact with some people, but Nick knows better. He can see past the fake smile his Father puts on. The man no longer sees Nick as his son, but as some thing, some creature, that could turn on him and everyone else in the blink of an eye. He would be right.

Nick has been over the attack many times in his head. Replaying each and every second of it with perfect recall. The whole thing is imprinted in his thoughts day and night. He is an animal. A beast that enjoys causing damage to others. He wasn't aware of it during the fight, but looking back, he can see it clearly. He smiled. While he was beating Butch's perfect face into a pulp, he was smiling. What he thought was a roar, was actually a laugh, loud and hysterical. So much pent up anger with Butch and his gang was released that day, and Nick enjoyed it. He enjoyed the way he hurt Butch, made him pay.

A shudder goes down his spine each and every time he thinks about that. This part of himself frightens him. Where did such anger come from? His Father is a pacifist and the only violence he has been exposed to is by his own doing. He wishes he knew which part of him caused the attack, that way he could shut it down and never have to worry about going crazy again.

Eventually his eyes become too heavy to keep open and he drifts off into sleep. His dreams are fitful, filled with images of strange monsters with giant claws, massive people with yellowed skin, and even humans who appear to be little more than skin stretched over bones. The the darker images clear away and he is sitting next to Amata in the cafe. She looks different, and it takes him a while to realize that it is because she looks grown up, sort of like how he is starting to look. She is smiling and pointing to something in a comic book she must have lifted from her dads office. It seems too perfect, so he isn't surprised when vault security shows up. He stands, expecting them to take him in, but instead they grab Amata. She screams as the drag her away. Nick wants to help, but he finds that he cannot move. He is forced to watch, helpless, as a security officer takes out a gun and aims it at her head!

"Wake up!" Amata's voice shouts in a panic. "Come on, you have to wake up!"

* * *

Nick sits behind the bar in the Brass Lantern. Tyler is ordering them a round of drinks, but Nick's thoughts are elsewhere. Silver. That junkie bitch they wasted in the ruins outside of town. He literally blew her head of with a pistol! A fucking pistol! She was dead after the first shot, but he still emptied his magazine into her. Things just accumulated, escaping the vault, finding out his dad is supposedly from the surface, kidnapped and beaten by raiders for his pipboy, and then finally that bitch trying to kill him with a scatter gun.

He looks down at his hands isn't surprised to see that there is literally still some blood mixed in with the dirt beneath his fingernails. He looks down at himself and realizes that are little flecks of blood and dirt everywhere. The leather coat Butch gave him after he rescued his mom is filthy, but on some level that makes him happy. You hear that Butch, your precious coat is getting dirty.

Silver got what she had coming to her. She was dealing with the raiders who beat him, she deserved worse. Nick is only half surprised by the anger in his thoughts, he is a monster after all, isn't he. Tyler sits down and offers him a shot glass of some liquid. Tyler lifts his glass and toasts Nick's first successful job. Nick lifts his own glass and clinks it against Tyler's before downing it. the liquor burns its way down his throat, but he thinks it feels good. This is the start of something new for him. He can never go back to the vault, that much is clear, and after he finds out what happened to his Father? Well, there is a whole wasteland up here, plenty of room for one more killer.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Dusty Old Stories:_**

 ** _Quinn_**

Quinn cannot believe his luck. He also can't believe how most people say that in a good way and he only ever gets to use it while in the negative. When those two mercenaries, Luther and Tyler, told him they had a job on offer that paid good caps and that they were willing to take him on, he never ever suspected that meant he was going to be the bait in a totally idiotic plan to trap a deathclaw!

At this very moment, he is standing out in the open, no more than a few feet from deathclaw central, and has several brahmin stakes strapped to his body! As if that isn't enough, he has no idea where those two mercs disappeared to. For all he knows, they have run off and left him to die. He gives his head a hard shake, if they were that type of bigot, they never would have taken him on in the first place. Not to mention they have already paid him, which likely means they are actually planning on going through with this! He isn't sure which idea he likes more, that they left him, or that they are crazy enough to actually try taming a deathclaw.

The ground gives a slight shutter and Quinn goes stone still. It was only a slight tremor, it could have been, nope, there is a second shake. Momma Death is coming for him now! His eyes widen and if he still had skin he knows the hair on it would be standing straight up. The deathclaw that emerges from the cave ahead of him is like no other deathclaw he has ever seen! This one is bigger in body, horns, and claws! Not to mention that the beast is stark white in color with glowing red eyes that are locked onto him! Screw this shit, he is fucking out of here!

With a scream that is, admittedly, very girly, he turns tail and runs like he has never run before. The roar of the deathclaw and the shaking of the earth as it chases after him only spurs him to go even faster. The ground is shaking like there is an earthquake going on, or another bomb being dropped, and he doesn't dare look back to see how close Momma Death is to him.

He rounds a corner in the rocks and comes into sight of Luther and Tyler setting up what looks to be some sort of trap net. "Run mother fuckers!" They both look up at him in confusion for a moment, until the deathclaw comes raging around the corner, hot on Quinn's heals. Then they both drop the net and take off. "Hey, wait!" Neither of the mercenaries even look back at him! This is it! He is going to die! A fucking appetizer for some hellspawn demon! He doesn't even have any hot sauce to make himself taste better for the beast!

His lungs are burning and he knows that the thing is right on top of him! He drops to his knees and covers his head, awaiting the inevitable! He just hopes that it is quick! A gunshot rings out and the ground trembles as something passes over his head and collapses. For several moments Quinn knows he his dead. He has to be! That is the only explanation for why he isn't deathclaw chow right now. After a few more seconds he lifts his head and cracks open an eye. With another scream he jerks back when he finds himself face to, um, ass, with the deathclaw's hind parts. As he watches Luther steps up to the body with a smoking sniper rifle and kicks it in the head. The merc jumps back and lifts his rifle, obviously expecting the beast to still be alive. Quinn starts to stand, but Luther decides to be safe and puts a second round into the monsters head. The crack of the rifle startles Quinn and he ends back up on the ground again.

Tyler walks into view laughing and wiping sweat from his brow. "Wow, that was a big one wasn't it? Look at her!" The mercenary actually climbs up onto the dead beasts back and grabs one of the spines on its back. "Just one of these bad spike things will sell for a shit load of caps!"

Quinn gets to his feet and dusts himself off. "Tyler," He hears Luther snap, "we have a deal with the collector. We cannot take trophies or sell any of the parts ourselves."

Tyler's rolls his eyes, "that idiot only wants the claws and the head. The rest of this corpse are ours to exploit." Quinn walks up to the body and gently nudges it with his foot. "We can sell the rest in Megaton on our way to the dealer. That should keep any other nasty people off our trail and avoid the larger groups of raiders around here. Hey!" Quinn jumps back at the shout. "Good job back there ugly, I think we should keep you around."

Quinn looks back and forth between Luther and Tyler. Both are regarding him with measured expression. Quinn cannot tell if they are jinxing him or not. He takes a few cautious steps back. He still has Brahmin steaks strapped to his body and his only weapon is a knife. If they decide they want to kill him or make him a slave, there isn't much he can do about it. Just as he is ready to split and run, both men burst out laughing. "You should see your face!" Tyler howls. Quinn lets out a pent up breath he hadn't realized he was holding. These two are going to drive him crazy if he stick around for much longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Dusty Old Stories: 5_**

 ** _Darkness closing in_**

The heavy steel vault door closes with a deafening shriek. Amata trembles for a few seconds, and then collapses to her knees, tears streaming down her face and sobs shaking her whole body. She remains like that, unable to face the vault, unable to accept what has just happened.

His last words to her still echo in her ears. "I pray to whatever fucked up deity guides the wasteland that a group of raiders invade this hole the very first time you open these doors. Hell isn't beneath us, it is up there. I will take pleasure in the knowledge that you have willingly tossed your people into it." Then he turned away and walked out the vault.

A fresh wave of tears explode onto her face. She cries and cries until she has no more tears left to cry and he chest is tightened so hard it hurts. He was right. She is a monster. She did that to him. She turned him into that thing.

Somehow she staggers to her feet and starts to walk. She pays no attention to where she is going except to avoid others. Too many people are still celebrating. They think they have won some sort of victory. They called her a hero, the savior of the vault, when all she did was push their real savior aside, again. She finds herself in his old room. "Nick." he voice is a sob and she collapses onto his old bed.

She would cry more, but she doesn't have the strength. The room has been looted. He must have come here and taken anything of value after she told him he had to leave. Why couldn't he understand? Why can't he see that by staying here he would only make things worse? Too many of the other vault 101 residents still blame him for the start of all this conflict. She knows he never wanted any of it. She knows that it was never his fault. But as Overseer, she has to do what is best for the vault, not what is best for her. She wanted him to stay, didn't she?

The first time he came back, she barely recognized him. His face, his eyes, they were so different. The shy little boy she used to play with out of pity and later attraction was gone, replaced by someone who scared her. She could tell from the way they talked that he was aware of her fear. He knew that he put her on edge. She wanted to hide it, to go back to the way things used to be. She tried so hard to make it so, but it wasn't enough. Yet he surprised her. Her Father is still alive. Expecting Nick to kill her Father likely only made things worse.

"Hell isn't beneath us, it is up there." He told her so many times that they would be safer down here, that the wasteland is to cruel a place for her or any of the others. At first she believed that if he could make, than they could as well. Then she saw his face. Then she saw the scars on his body when he didn't know she was looking. He survived because he changed who he was. She doesn't think she could make it through such a change in herself. None of the other vault citizens could. He told her to keep the vault sealed, not to open it to the surface.

She stands and whips her eyes. There is a lot to be done, a lot to fix before that is ever brought back up. for now, she has to organize the security force, and make sure that she can control the rest of the residents without too much resistance. She needs to be firm, but not overly so. Her Father groomed her to lead, and she somehow always knew she would one day take over. Now the day is here.

As a girl, she liked to imagine that Nick would take over with her. That with the two of them leading that the vault would prosper in a golden age like never before. Now he is gone. Dead in the wasteland. Hating her and everyone around her. Suddenly leading the vault doesn't seem so promising. Suddenly the weight of her new responsibility. Suddenly the walls that have protected her all her life seem menacing and dark. The rest of her life, here, in a hole, alone. She would cry again, but she doesn't have the strength. "Goodbye Nick," she whispers to the dark, "I love you."

* * *

Nick scratches Dogmeat's ears affectionately. He is sitting on a cold iron bench located at the center of a small shanty town that has sprung up around a water spring. The water itself isn't that great, but the people who got here first managed to rig up a sort of filtration machine that works well enough. He started a fire in an empty oil barrel and people have steadily been joining in around it. Strange how humans are so attracted to fire, sort of like moths. His eyes move over the small crowd lazily, unconcerned about being mugged or robbed. No one around here has the stones, or the guns to even try against someone like him.

Aside from the massive hound at his feet Nick is fully armed and armored. A few days ago he bought a long overcoat that reminded him of the one Luther always wore along with a new hat. His last one got shot off his head by a raider and the hole in it would have been too difficult to patch properly on the trail. As he sits he thinks back to his home. He can't help but wonder what type of new catastrophe is going down in DC these days. When he left things were relatively peaceful, but war never changes and something new always comes along.

Jane appears through the crowd and joins him on the bench. She tries to sneak Dogmeat a treat of some kind without Nick seeing, but he does see, and decides to let it pass just this once. He is in an abnormally good mood tonight. The warm fire, a full belly, no crazies trying to sell him watered down chems, not to mention the full purse of caps at his waist. "This was a good idea, Jane, glad you thought of it."

The woman smiles at one of his rare complements and take it in stride. "Yeah, just knew a place like this would have at least some sort of trouble the moment I laid eyes on it. Easy enough to find work after dropping off that package. Say, how exactly did you get those raiders to come in peacefully?"

Nick smiles at the reminder of his best work yet. "I strode into their camp like I owned the place, slapped their leader in the face, and challenged him to a fight one on one. Told him that if he won I would lead him to a major chem stash and he could kill me after. If I won, his buddies would stand down and not fight me any more. He took the bait right away. Proud fuck."

Jane laughs lightly. "How did you beat him?"

"When he came at me, instead of dodging any of his blows, I let him hit me, got him fired up. He made a mistake with his footing and I pinned him down. I figured that the other raiders wouldn't hold up his end of the agreement unless I scared them something fierce. So I took a bit out of his throat." Jane gags and a few of the settlers that were listening in gasp. "That is right. Then I took it a step further. Got a knife, carved his chest up, pulled his heart out..."

"Please say you didn't actually..."

"... and took a great big bit out of it."

Jane actually bends over and hurls this time. The settlers begin to edge away slowly. Nick laughs in a hysterical way and pats Jane on the back. "Don't worry love, the worst part was how sour he tasted."

The night wears on and Nick eventually heads to the place where he has rented a bed for the night. As he lays down he can't help but think about how the settlers remind him of how the people back in 101 looked at him. The vaulties always thought he was feral. A wild animal that needed to be removed. Even Amata came to think that in the end. He wonders if they are all dead yet, he hopes so.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Dusty Old Stories**_

 ** _The man in the suit_**

For days now Nick has been hearing horror stories about the so called, 'man in the suit.' From what he has heard, the guy is ruthless and enjoys killing. Thus far the list of people killed by the man includes a family of three setters who lived outside a town. A caravan of travelers and merchants heading to the same town. Three homeless people and two junkies from that same town. And a group of hardened mercenaries spotted camping a few miles outside of, you guessed it, the same town.

Most of the reports don't bother Nick too badly, people die all the time. The thing about the defenseless family and the hardened mercenaries got his attention though. The farmers lived far out of town. He went to examine their home. There were bloodstains only where the bodies hit the ground. The man killed them quickly and without remorse. He didn't desecrate the bodies the way a raider or psycho would have. The settlers were buried outside the house. Nick considered digging them up to look at the wounds, but decided against it.

The mercenaries were camped even further from that town than the farmers were. It took Nick a good few hours of searching to find their resting place. The bodies hadn't even been moved yet, aside from scavengers pushing them around a bit. Due to the scavengers having picked at the corpses, Nick couldn't tell a whole lot from them. The mortal wounds were all but eaten away. The extra blood didn't help him get an idea of how the fight went either. Far as he could tell, the mercs were taken by surprise and had not time to fight back.

Usually Nick just ignores jobs like this, preferring to leave them to local authorities, but this one really has his attention. Killing farmers who are unable to defend themselves in any way is low, even for raiders. Most raiders would prefer to kill such farmers only as a last resort. After all, why kill someone who they can hassle for food and supplies? Then there are the mercs. From the shape of the camp, Nick can tell that the men were professionals, not lowlifes looking for quick cash. That means that this killer is both ruthless and well trained. Not many people out there are like that, and Nick is one of the few.

Right now he is standing outside of a small cave entrance. After examining the mercs camp he picked up on a set of prints leading west. He went in that general direction and came across the cave. The place is likely where the mysterious killer is lurking. The man has a hefty price on his head, and more caps never hurt.

Nick draws his .45 pistol and enters the cave. No more than a few feet in he realizes that this may have been a mistake. The cave is pitch black on the inside, the only light coming from the entrance. His pipboy light could help, but that would make it far to easy for whoever or whatever may be in here to see him coming. Crouching low, he sticks to the walls, keeping one hand against the cold stone to guide him. His eyes begin to slowly adjust, and he starts to notice that there is something crunching under his feet. He reaches down and brushes his fingers against the stuff on the floor. It is dusty, and dry. Sand? He rubs some of the substance between his fingers and sniffs it. Not sand, bone meal. Bones crushed and ground into a fine powder. Why would there be bone meal on the floor of the cave? And a better question, how did it get here?

Very suddenly he is aware of a presence behind him. Impossible, how could he have been snuck up on? The barrel of what feels like a gun presses into the small of his back and a dry voice hisses, "Whats this one? A trespasser? A scaver looking for a buried and radiated trove? No, no this one is armed like a killer! He smells of the sight! You has the sight don't ya? The sight tell you about poor old Billy? Tell you to come down here and finish me off didn't it? Those cut throat bastards!"

Damn, a fucking lunatic who lives in a cave. Just what Nick needs right now. "I am here looking for a murderer. He killed a family of farmers as well as a band of mercenaries. I followed some tracks that led in this direction. If he isn't here, then I will be going. No trouble."

"Murderer?" The man behind him hisses. "Yes, the murderer. Oh yeah, even I've heard tell of him, way out here in the bowels of the earth. He walks the land, here and there he does. I knows him! I've done caught him here in my little trap I have. You here murderer, I've done caught you red handed!" The gun presses harder into Nick's back. "Now move killer, and don't try nothing. I've got an itchy finger! Seriously, needs some ointment."

Nick starts moving forward slowly, guided by the gun at his back. The man starts chattering nonsense to himself. Going on and on about something called the sight and how Nick has it and it is the cause of all evil. This is just great. Some crack thinks he is the murderer. Now he is probably going to end up gagged and dragged back to the town by this idiot. He has to find a way to weasel out of this.

A light starts to grow as the move further and further into the cave. Eventually they come to its source. A small camp has been set up at the edge of a large pit, the bottom of which is shrouded in darkness. Nick thinks he can hear water below, and the small crank bucket nearby would confirm that. There is a dingy little bed shoved into a corner as well as multiple boxes and crates spilling over with junk. Nick is pushed to his knees and his hands are bound behind his back by a leather cord. He gets his first look at his captor when the man moves around him to dig through some of the junk for something.

The hermit is short and hunched. He is wearing only a ratty pair of trousers, leaving his torso exposed. Large warts and growths cover the mans chest and back as well as his face and arms. The mans eyes are small and one is higher up his face than the other. What hair he has is thin and stringy. His overall look reminds Nick of the giant rats that can be found in some parts of the wasteland. The man is still muttering to himself.

Nick starts looking for a way out of this predicament. His hands are bound, but not that well. Tensing his arms helps loosen the bonds, but not enough to get his hands through. Reaching down to his boot, a knife is drawn and starts to cut slowly at the bonds. The rat man must hear something cause he stops looking through his stuff and glares at Nick. "And who is this? What a strange morsel to be found in my home? I wonders how he arrived here? Was he sent by the sight? I think he might have been."

"You brought me here!" Nick snaps, annoyed at the situation. "You came up behind me and accused me of being a murderer! Then you dragged me down here and tied me up!"

The man makes a confused face. "Well that sounds nothing like me does it? Why on earth would I do that?" He moves forward, walking on his hands and knees like an animal. "Is it the sight? does this one have the sight? That would explain my behavior." The man draws a long curved knife. "I don't like the sight. Always looking where it does not need to see."

Nick's heart starts racing and he begins to cut at his bonds again. Suddenly he does not care if the rat man knows that he is trying to escape. "I think the sight sent you to kill me once and for all. Those dirty bastards! They knows that I am hiding here, with all their treasure. They want it for themselves! Well I would not let them have it! I sliced them and diced them and ate them up! Even bones are gone now!"

Nick is about to cut the final bond around his wrists, when something detaches itself from the shadows of the cave. A man walks into the small camp, seemingly out of no where. The man is dressed in a new dress coat and vest. There is a black bowler hat on his head. He very calmly looks around until noticing the hermit and Nick. The hermits back is to the man, and so he does not see the man draw a large revolver and aim at his back. The man pulls the trigger and the hermit screams once in agony before dropping into the pit next to him. There is a splash, and then nothing.

The man in the suit holsters his revolver and starts to pick through the dead hermits junk with an air of uncaring arrogance. He lifts a rag with a finger and looks at it like it is the most disgusting thing he has ever seen. He glance back at Nick once, as if wondering why Nick is there at all. "Can I help you?" The man's voice is so smooth that it takes Nick by surprise. When he does not answer, the man in the suit goes back to picking through the junk. "Is there anything here in my large selection of miscellaneous goods that I can perhaps interest you in purchasing?"

Nick finally finds his voice. "You just killed him!"

The man shakes his head. "You were going to kill him."

"I was going to kill him because he was threatening me! I had a reason. You gunned him down for no reason at all!" Nick is unsure why he is so indignant. This man did just save his life. Perhaps it is because the man in the suit intimidates him.

The man whirls on him and draws his gun again. "What was that? You are accusing me of being a killer? Well I have never heard that one before. Wait, yes I have. Most every person who ever meets me calls me a killer. Especially the ones that I kill. You understand. You are a killer as well."

Nick stands slowly. "I don't kill for no reason."

The man smiles and steps forward, pressing his revolver to Nick's head. "Don't you though? Don't you kill for no reason? That aside, this is now my cave and my supplies. If you want to leave my cave, you will have to pay up. If you want to leave with any supplies, you will have to pay up double."

Nick glowers. "You are going to charge me to leave?"

The man smiles easily, "Consider it payment for saving your life from a crazy man in the bottom of a cave." The man walks over to the well crank and pulls up a bucket of water. He dips a ladle into the water and sips at it. "Ah, now that is some good water. Tastes like it has some dead man in it. The sort of dead man who would have killed you."

The man suddenly changes his attitude and moves on Nick fast. "What." The man's voice is now filled with anger. "You think I won't kill you just because I saved you just now?" Nick has no doubt in his mind that this man is the murderer he has been searching for. "Oh I know what you are thinking. You are trying to decide if you are fast enough to reach that iron on your hip before I can pull the trigger. You are thinking about killing me and maybe getting yourself killed." The man steps back and puts the gun under his own neck. "Don't worry fool I think about doing it nearly every day."

Nick lunges forward and slams a fist into the side of the man's head. The man crumples to the ground and Nick kicks away his revolver. He bends over and lets out a pent up breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Sweat is moving all over his body and dripping onto the floor. He straightens up and looks back towards the man, but he is gone. Nick crouches and places a hand on his pistol. Where did the bastard go?

A dark chuckles comes from the shadows on Nick's left, and then his right. The bastard is playing with him! Nick turns and runs. He has no idea which direction he is going, but he runs. The whole time the laughing follows, right behind him. He is in a panic. He has to get out of this cave! He has to get to the surface!

His hopes start to die as the cave seems to go on and on, but then he spots the entrance. He bursts out and spins around, ready to gun down whatever comes out, only nothing does. He swallows hard and starts to edge his way backwards. A gust of wind seems to come from the cave, bringing with it a haunting chuckles that makes Nick's hair stand on end. He turns and runs. He keeps running until his legs collapse beneath him. Then he crawls. Anything to get away from that monster.

* * *

 **Props to whoever can figure out what movie I am referencing with this chapter. Also, this does play directly into the main story in Broken Road. Hope you all enjoyed! Leave a review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Dusty Old Stories_**

 ** _The cold after the fire_**

Quinn stuffs his hands under his armpits. His whole body shakes from the strain of heating his body against the bitter cold all around him. His boots crunch through the deep layer of snow. Already the top layer is starting to freeze together while yet another layer is being dropped upon it. The boots are about the only proper winter gear he has, and he stole them from a dead man. The rest of his apparel is painfully unsuited for cold.

He has to force his eyes to open so he can look around. A thin layer of frost had sealed them shut. In every direction he sees the same thing. White. The snow is endless. Visibility has been reduced to a few feet. And within that range the landscape has not distinguishable features.

More and more he shivers. A futile attempt to heat himself. It is getting to the point where the shaking will become debilitating if he does not soon find cover. Too many bodies have been found curled up in the snow for him to think he might survive a night out in the open. The only thing he is aware of is the crunch of his steps, the shaking of his body, and the howling of the wind. This is a cruel world.

To have survived the blasts that killed so many, and now to have to live through this winter. He envies those that perished in the flame. Many did not even have a chance to realize what was happening before they died. He has seen the corpses. Frozen in place by their baked bodies. Some seemed as though they simply sat down and waited. Others appear to have been trying to escape. Most appear to have been blissfully unaware. He wishes he were one of those. One of those who never saw it coming. Instead, he survived.

He had always been the prepared type. Ever since his return from serving in Anchorage, he expected retaliation. As soon as he got back to his little home outside of the nations capital, he built his bunker. He didn't tell anyone. To worried about them judging him, or attempting to force their way in once the bombs dropped. turns out he was right, of course, and someone did try and force their way in. They way they screamed at him. It was a woman's voice. She begged and begged, claiming that she was pregnant and that he was a monster for not letting her in. He had been one step away from opening the bunker doors and letting her in, when the earth shook and her voice vanished.

Now he is alive. Now he knows that by not letting her in he spared her a more gruesome fate. The wind catches his light jacket and tear it open, exposing his bare chest to the elements. His arms are so stiff that it takes longer than usual to pull it closed again. More shivers, and he can barely move his legs. More and more frost is covering him, numbing his whole body. The numbness is a blissful respite from the cold, but he knows it is bad. The loss of feeling means that soon he will go into shock. If that happens, well, he won't be alive any more.

That does not sound like such a bad thing anymore. He would almost welcome it. Yet his self preservation instincts force him to keep moving. To keep placing one foot in front of the other.

Up ahead a noise is carried to him on the wind. Again he forces his eyes to open and look about. Before him are two massive monoliths of creatures. The crash into each other, roaring and baying sounds of fury and hate. His forward movement stops as he beholds to two monsters battle. He has seen this before. Beasts both created and driven mad by the radiation all around. Even he has been altered by its burn.

The monoliths clash lasts on and on. Though time has stopped having any meaning to Quinn. Eventually one falls and the other throws back it head, roaring in triumph, but then falling and lying still itself. Both monoliths dealt killing blows, it came down to which could last the longest.

Quinn hurries forward with renewed hope. He reaches the first beast and searches the corpse until he finds a gash that is large enough. He reaches in and begins to scrape out all the meat and bone that is in his way. Anything that comes loose, or can be pulled aside, is. The still warm blood coats his arms and chest, renewing his energy. When a large enough crevasse is created, he takes a deep breath, and crawls inside.

Hours pass and slowly life returns to his stiffened body, even as the heat from the monolith dies away. Deeper and deeper into the beast he burrows, ever seeking warmer flesh. Eventually he is forced to leave as the corpse stiffens and he is no longer capable of going any further. Carefully he makes his way back out.

The wound he entered through is now buried beneath snow, and he is forced to dig is way to the surface. As he breaks through the last layer he is hit with the blinding brilliance of the sun reflecting off the snow. As his eyes adjust he searches for any signs of the other dead beast, but there are none. It too has been buried. With a heave he pulls himself the rest of the way out and stands carefully, testing the surface of the snow.

With the top layer frozen it most places, it is possible to walk its surface. However, there can be many weak spots, and he has no idea how deep some of them may be. Falling through could spell the end of him, and now that he has banished the cold from his body, his self preservation is now taking control again. He quickly descends back into the buried corpse of the monolith he sheltered in and finds a large bone. He struggles for several hours to break it from the corpse, but once he does he quickly returns to the surface of the snow.

As he climbs out fully, he uses the bone to test the ground ahead of him before moving. In this manner he moves slowly, but at least he makes progress.

Hours tick by and he begins to once more search for some form of shelter. He knows that he can burrow down into the snow to avoid the wind, but that will not stave off the cold for long. He has to find a place where he can build a fire, or something. Who would have thought that the worst part of the apocalypse by nuclear bombs would be a never ending winter? At least from here things can only get better. At least, that is what he hopes.

* * *

Quinn lifts the bottle of hard vodka towards his mouth, but stops halfway and sets it back down. With a heavy sigh he stands up and leaves the bar without paying his tab. Underworld. What a proper name for the place. It is a hole in a wasteland where the monsters, the ghouls, go to hide from the humans. What a slap in the face this is for all of them. Not only did the survive the bombs, the nuclear winter, and all the freaks created by the radiation, only to be shunned by those humans who somehow managed to not get mutated into ghouls or other abominations.

So here they all squat, hoping and praying that the world outside just burns itself alive, again. They don't even have an economy here. No one bothers to pay for anything. why should they? Not like their caps are ever going to be worth anything outside of this place. The money just keeps getting circulated between Tulip in the store, Ahzrukhal at the bar, and Carol at the hotel. Quinn is the only one who does any actual exchange, and that is always with the outside world. Of all the ghouls here, he is the only one with the balls to go outside and attempt to trade or do jobs for non-ghouls.

He reaches over and scratches at a dirty bandage around his shoulder from one of his more recent jobs. Those two assholes who often hang around here, Luther and Tyler, hired him to help them escort a caravan for a few weeks. They didn't mention that the place they were going to was being warred over by two costumed crazies calling themselves the Mechanist and the Antagonizer. He ended up being shot through the shoulder by a robot and his leg chewed by a giant ant.

Why he takes jobs from those two is beyond him. Maybe on some level he likes them, but mostly it is because they pay well, or at least they find the best paying jobs. That and they don't seem to have any problems with ghouls. Well, Luther tolerates them, but Tyler seems to prefer their company over other humans.

With a sigh Quinn sits down in a chair and rubs his chin. Some part of him wishes the nuclear winter was still going on. At least then he was left alone and didn't have to worry about making money. He shudders as he recalls the massive beasts that once roamed the land, and how he utilized them. The rest of the wasteland is lucky. They will never have to sleep inside a giant's corpse.


	8. Chapter 8

Radiation falls like dirt and ash on coffin tops. These people are not corpses, yet still they rot. Oblivious to their decay. Their streets are like a bleeding wound, with all the filth running through the gutters. When the wounds scab over, and the filth they live in begins to drown them, only then will they ask to be saved. When the rot which they love and the squalor they revel returns to kill them, only then will they become repentant. At that point they will look up to us, the Enclave, to save them.

Clayton pulls the girl closer and presses the gun against her head. She whimpers and he tightens his grip on the arm he has twisted behind her back. "Get any closer, and I will blow her brains all over you fucking degenerates."

The two mercs enter slowly, their weapons drawn and aimed at him. The girl begs them not to shoot, but through her tears and sobs she is nearly incoherent. One of the mercs holds out a hand towards her, "Don't worry girl, he won't hurt you. Not his style." Clayton snarls and presses the gun even harder against her head. "Hey," the merc shouts, "just take it easy Clayton!"

"Why," He shoots back, "what difference would it make if I killed her or didn't? She isn't even why you are here! She is just a convenient means for you to justify coming after me!" He backs towards the door behind him. The mercs mirror his movements, keeping their guns trained on him. "You two assholes are nothing! NOTHING!"

The other merc growls low in his chest. Clayton moves the gun from the girls head to point it at him. "You! You are the worst of the worst! You corrupted a good man! A hero!" He swings the gun to the other merc. "And you are even worse! You betrayed us! You betrayed me! I trusted you! I looked up to you! You were my commanding officer! I would have followed you anywhere! Then you went and got yourself exiled!"

The man bristles. "That was not my choice, Clay, The Enclave forced me out." He is working to keep his voice calm. Hoping to keep Clayton from getting panicked. "They killed my family, Clay, They executed them. I never meant to hurt you, but you have to…"

"DON'T!" Clayton shouts, making the girl scream as he puts the gun back against her head. "Don't you dare call me that! You are filth now! You don't deserve to call me that anymore! No one does! My name is Clayton! CLAYTON!"

"Clay," the merc says in a warning tone.

"NO! I have had enough!" He swings his gun out and fires! In seconds both mercenaries have crossed the room! Shouts fill the air accompanied by gunshots and a short scream that is cut off far too quickly.

Luther pulls Clayton's body towards him and presses a hand to his chest, nothing. He kneels over the body, touching his forehead into his former second's. For the first time in years tears threaten to fall down his face. "Clay," his voice is barely a whisper, "I am so sorry Clay."

"The girl is dead," Tyler says from beside him. "We aren't going to get the bounty." Luther stands and wipes his eyes discretely. Tyler claps him on the shoulder. "Let's get the hell out of here." Luther nods and follows his partner out of the office, letting him pull an arm over his shoulder to help him walk as blood flows down his leg. Tyler is holding his side, and blood is welling through is fingers. It is no matter, both of them were already covered in dirt, grease, and blood before even entering the office.

The foyer outside is littered with the bodies of the men Clayton ran with. Half have only one wound, quick and clean. The other half have been butchered. Luther and Tyler limp their way through the empty room, their footsteps echoing eerily. Neither speak. Neither wish to acknowledge the carnage they just caused. Even when they make it back to the settlement and deliver the news that they didn't save the woman, they don't speak about what they felt.

In the tavern that night, Luther sits in the empty tub and stares longingly at his old dog tags. Attached to the chain is a locket with two pictures. He reaches forward and turns on the water. He waits until it us up to his neck, not caring that he is still clothed and that the water is irradiated.

Once the tub is full, he takes a deep breath and submerges himself. The blood lifts away. The grease is rubbed off. The dirt dissolves. When he comes back up, he is cleaner than he has been for months. He climbs out of the tub and pulls the plug so the water can drain. Dripping wet, he heaves a heavy sigh and starts gathering his things.

As the last drops of water disappear down the drain of the tub, the metal chain clings against the bottom. The dogtags shine and the locket is open, showing a smiling woman and a small girl. Luther stops in the doorway on his way out. For the briefest moment, he feels like going back and taking the chain with him, then he steels his nerves, sets his face in a grim line, and walks away.

Months later, he and Luther walk into the bar in Megaton. The patrons there all quiet down, collectively holding their breath as the two killers look around before taking a seat. Relief spreads through the bar as everyone goes back to their drinks. Luther is about to go and speak with a man whom looks like he might have some work for them, when into the bar walks a young man wearing a leather jacket and blue jumpsuit.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane crouches down, clamping her hands over ears, screaming as the building around her bursts into flames! The impact sends her through the air, landing on her side she screams in pain as the bones in her leg snap! A decapitated and burned corpse drops beside her and she scrambles backwards, propelling herself with desperate movements! Her hands are sliced open on the shattered glass and rubble! Lungs burn as rapid breaths fuel the desperate need to survive, to escape!

The ruins of the settlement are ablaze. The night sky filled with the roar of the flames and the screams of the people trapped within the infernal buildings. The streets are strewn with bodies riddled with wounds. Smoke spirals up into the night sky, contrasting with the dancing light of the flames, blocking sight and filling lungs with deadly vapors. The cries of carrion supplement the chorus of death that abounds. Birds dart through the air. Flashing as shadows through the fire.

Tears evaporate from her face as soon as they start to fall. The heat sears her face. The foul stench of burning hair and flesh permeates the air. Through the light of the fire appears a dark shade. A vision of death that holds no regard for life. Death passes through the fire with no regard to any injury it may endure. It is cold. It is like a frost that refuses to melt in the face of hell's rage. It looks to her now.

Jane screams and scrambles back! She is defenseless! She has no weapons! Death moves forward, closing the distance between them. It does not rush. It knows there is no need. In vain Jane drags herself away! Crawling over burning beams and pushing aside the bodies of those already taken. Prayer's fall from her, a call to anything divine that watches over the damned souls of this world to have mercy! To postpone her judgment!

Death ignores her prayers. Extending a hand it takes her wounded form and pulls her through the fire. Screams replace the prayers as skin is split and burned. The hell of the town is left behind, and the void of the wastes are entered.

Why? Why drag her through this? Why prolong her suffering? Death offers no answers. It takes her with it. Now the tears fall un-hindered down her face. What thing has she done to deserve this? What foul sin has she committed? What torture will she be submitted to? What fate awaits her?

The crows follow after death. They call out for yet another meal. They demand death hand over the woman. They scream and caw and beat the air with their dark wings. Jane screams for them to be silent, to which they cackle and taunt. Death ignores their demands.

Finally, as the sun breaks the horizon, it releases its hold on her. Collapsing into the dirt she squeezes her eyes shut, sure that now it will deliver its judgment. Her ears listen for the sound of a weapon, and hear the crunch of dirt beneath boots. The sound moves away. She dares to lift her head and look. Death has its back to her and is walking away. As she watches, he transforms. From the apparition of death that burned the town at night into no more than a man in a coat.

She knows that man. She knew him. He traveled with her. He saved her life. As he dragged her from his desolation he was saving her. Yet he is the one responsible for all her injuries, all her pain. Now he is leaving her. Abandoning her here. Stranded and bleeding. Dying.

In desperation she reaches out for him. "Nick!" She screams his name, drawing it out. "Nick! Please!"

Death does not hear her. In the cloud of his mind, there is no fire. There is no desolation. No judgment. Only the man in the suit. That thing he runs from, but never outruns. The man he sees in the mirror. The man who greats him in the dead of the night. The man who keeps him alive through all the horrors of reality. As he walks he realizes that he has lost everything. His companion Dogmeat, and now the woman. Yet he knows that she is alive, somewhere. He swears to find her. "I promise." It is a whisper on his lips, barely audible. Yet it drives him. Years and Years, it drives him.


	10. Chapter 10

In all honesty Nick can't imagine any possible scenario where things could be worse; and the day had started off with such promise…

Through the scope of his rifle Nick watches a group of scavengers pick through the wreckage of a pre-war vertibird. There are three visible at the moment. Two inside the wreck and one standing watch. They don't seem to be armed. At least nothing substantial. Poor bastards have the look of starving dogs to them. Likely haven't eaten in days.

Without taking his eye off the scope, Nick shovels a spoonful of Pork'n'Beans into his mouth. It isn't cooked, but he is much happier to eat cold food than announce his presence to whoever is looking by building a fire. Not his favorite meal, but by far not the worse.

Reaching out a hand he gives Dogmeat an affectionate scratch behind the ears. The canine thumps its leg appreciatively. An unconscious smile spreads on Nick's face. He shifts his weight, taking his eyes away from the scope, and grins at the large dog. "What do you think boy?" he asks, "It look worth it to you?" Dogmeat snorts slightly and thumps his tail against the ground. "Yeah?" He snorts again.

Nick nods his head, "I thought so too." The distance between where he and Dogmeat are verses the scavengers is nothing to laugh at. It is a lot of open ground. Currently the two of them are concealed at the top of a rocky rise. Plenty of crevices, holes, and lots of other forms of cover. Exactly the sort of place anyone with two caps to rub together knows as a good place to start a fight from.

The vertibird seems to have crashed in the exact opposite of that. The area all around it is mostly flat and empty. Aside from a few car husks on busted pavement, and the bird itself, there is no real cover. It is a lot of open ground. Those with enough sense would steer clear. Fear of being taken down at range or even getting ambushed would normally prevail over the small chance that the wreck contains some supplies.

Again the level of desperation in these scavengers becomes obvious. The need to eat must be the only thing driving them. At least they had enough sense to have someone stand guard.

He looks through his scope again. What the hell! He snatches up the rifle and scans the area, sweeping the gun around. They are gone! How could they just disappear like that? "Shit!" A jolt goes through him and he drops onto his back, his eyes darting about the area around him, searching for any sign of movement.

Beside him Dogmeat has picked up on his panic and has raised himself to a crouched position. His teeth are bared and his hackles raised, but he makes no noise. Nick knows in his head that if the dog smelled someone nearby it would be giving him warning growls. Warily he lowers his rifle and turns back around, looking through the scope once more, just to make sure.

With a nervous swallow he lowers the gun. There were people out there. There were damn it! Dogmeat presses his head against Nick's leg. He reaches down and rubs behind his ears. "They were there right boy?" He does not expect an answer. "I was not seeing things. Not this time. They were there!"

He does not like the idea forming in his head. It would not be safe. It would not end well. Everything you have learned goes against it. It isn't worth the risk. You would learn nothing. Yet, still…

Grinding his teeth he makes up his mind. "Let's go."

His rifle is held tight against his shoulder as he makes his approach. The wind keeps pushing his coat out behind him. Dogmeat pads along next to him, keeping low to the ground, eyes watching everything. The wind picks up for a moment. It carries a scent immediately recognizable. "Damn."

All three scavengers are arranged side by side. Whoever killed them took the time to lay them side by side and cross their arms. They have been gutted. Their entrails spread about the inside of the vertibird's wreckage. Nick has to stifle a gag and look away. "God Damn…"

The smell says they have been there for at least a day. That still does not make any sense. They were up and walking seconds ago. Nick steadies himself before moving closer to examine the bodies.

Someone took their time with them. The incisions on the bodies were made with an almost surgical expertise. Looking closer, it is clear to see that all three were still alive whilst being gutted. Their faces have been set into almost peaceful expressions. It is sickening that someone could do this.

There is a click and metal is pushed against the back of Nick's neck. He immediately stiffens. "Good," A silky voice speaks behind him, "you know not to move."

Dogmeat stairs at him, whimpering and crawling backwards. "It's okay boy."

"Smart dog you have there. It knows when to back down."

"What do you want?"

There is a pause. "I want you." Thoughts race through Nick's head. Is there a bounty out for him? He thought he had been careful to stay under the radar. "Been looking for you for a while now. Ever since we meet in the cave." Fear reaches up and seizes Nick's heart in a vice grip.

"You…"

"Me."

It is the man in the suit. The man who has haunted Nick ever since he ventured into the depths of that damned cave. "Why are you after me? What did I ever do to you?"

Another pause. "Nothing. Nothing at all. There is no reason for any of this. I just enjoy watching you squirm." The gun pulls away from Nick's neck. "Now say your prayers."

Nick readies himself, but is still caught off guard when he is shot! The bullet rips through his side, just below his left arm! He is whipped around by the force of it and thrown to the ground! His vision swims as he cries out in pain. Dogmeat is barking and growling ferociously! For a moment he catches sight of the man in the suit before he disappears, seeming to grow smaller and smaller until out of sight.

He crawls forward through the wreckage. The pain confusing his thoughts. It seems like there is a group of people coming towards him, but he can't make them out. A sharp blow to the back of his head sends him sprawling. "Don't move! You are under arrest!" His face is pressed into the ground and he cannot see, but he can hear people talking all around him. They are arguing about something, but he can barely make out their words. He is aware of a bandage being tied around him, but nothing much else…

That brings them to present, or at least as close as Nick can really recall. Seems he was actually shot by an NCR Veteran Ranger. A NCR diplomacy group then picked him up. Seems they have been sent to deal with a group in a place called Two Bears. Only one problem, the leader of this group is a pompous asshole.

The guy is too young and trigger happy. Nick can tell that this is the man's first real assignment. The soldiers with him are also greenhorns. The only one with them who is worth anything is the Ranger.

Currently Nick has his hands bound behind his back. They are all inside the tribes main lodge house. The NCR officer is standing before the tribe leader and the two are arguing heatedly. The tension in the room is palpable. The tribesmen are obviously looking for any excuse to attack.

The veteran ranger is standing in the corner next to Nick. The man has his arms crossed. Despite wearing a full ranger helmet, Nick can tell the man is aggravated. "So," Nick whispers, "I guess you really didn't want this assignment?" He turns himself slightly so as he can start working his hands out of the bonds.

The ranger doesn't look at him, "No, I demanded I get assigned to this op." Nick raises an eyebrow. Now the ranger looks at him. "I know Hsu, he is young and stupid. This op is doomed to fail. I am here so as I can try and get as many out as possible. Same as those two mercenaries over there." Nick looks to the men, he hadn't realized they were mercs.

"So you are here for when shit hits the fan." The Ranger nods. The officer's voice suddenly raises. "Seems you are going to get your chance here soon." The officer and the tribe leader continue to argue. "Hey, by the way, where is my dog?"

The ranger starts to answer, but as he does the whole situation explodes! With seemingly no warning all of the tribesmen attack! The tribe scream out all manner of war cries! They leap at the NCR soldiers with clubs and axes!

One charges Nick. Without hesitation Nick steps into the man's attack, taking the damage of his attackers blow on his armored shoulder. He surges forward, slamming his head into the man's! The man staggers back and Nick finally manages to slip his hands free of his bonds! He leaps forward, wrapping his arms around the man's head and snapping his neck!

Nick grabs the man's club and charges into the melee. Three tribesmen fall to his attacks before he just manages to stop himself from bashing in The NCR officer's face. Nick lowers his weapon and looks around. All the tribesmen inside are dead, as well as most of the NCR soldiers and both of the mercenaries.

The Ranger, bloodied and angry, grabs the officer. Dragging him to his feet the Ranger barks out orders. "Alright. None of us will get out of here unless you do as I say!" He pushes the barely conscious officer towards Nick. "You, take him. We need him alive for now. You three, give us cover. This valley is a kill zone! It will be a miracle if we make it, but we will make the attempt. Move!"

Nick drags himself forward, dragging two nearly dead people behind him. He lifts his arm and waves frantically at the fort he is approaching. Shouts are heard and soon a group of soldiers run out to assist him. "What happened?" Demands a high ranking female officer.

Nick struggles to salute, barely able to raise his arm due to the injury to his side. "Ma'am, the tribe turned on us. We barely made it out. These men are badly wounded."

The officer snaps some orders and the two other survivors are taken away. "You yourself don't look all that good Ranger."

Nick shakes his head, "I will survive Ma'am. I can't stay. I have other orders, but any medical supplies you could spare would be helpful."

"Of course, you are a hero as far as I am concerned." The officer leads him into the base to get his supplies. Nick, dressed in the armor he took from the dead ranger, gets many salutes and awed looks. Seems the legends about the respect Rangers hold are true.

After resting for a bit he heads out to look for his dog. What a strange day. First the man in the suit and then that shitstorm. He honestly hopes that that officer dies from his injuries. He really doesn't know why he was so set on dragging those two people back to that base, but he did, no sense in thinking about it now.


End file.
